


After The Red Bird, A Small Fire

by brieflyshystarfish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflyshystarfish/pseuds/brieflyshystarfish
Summary: ***spoilers for s6 ep1 savior***Emma shows up on Regina's doorstep, momentarily screwed up by the weird visions and weird girl and in need of a friend, a fire, and a bit of a talk. Tenderness helps too. (what i imagine could have happened between our two insanely gorgeous ladies after the events of this episode)(a one-shot with tenderness much tenderness)





	

**Author's Note:**

> really see the ep first bc spoilers here

When Emma had shown up at the door, shifty eyed and balancing on one foot and then the other, all low quick words, Regina had simply stood aside, inviting her in without comment, worry and warmth prickling her stomach. 

She made tea first, wordlessly, while Emma leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Regina felt Emma's hooded gaze, noted how her leather-clad shoulders were tighter than ever. Felt the chilliness of Emma's hands as Regina pressed the cup there. How when Emma followed Regina to the couch, she sat close, initially, posture rigid, as if she was making sure not to touch. 

“He had his hands at my throat, Regina,” Emma had finally said. Her eyes darted around before settling on her hands and the warmed cup. “And I saw—“ her eyes closed, and Regina waited a beat, briefly conjuring in her own mind a set of dreadful possibilities. 

“Emma,” Regina started, then hesitated a moment before moving closer to her. She closed her hands over Emma’s, ignoring Emma’s slight flinch, feeling a warmth spread through her as Emma stilled. 

“Emma, you’re cold,” she said firmly. “Here,” and left one hand on Emma’s while she reached behind her, grasping the blanket on the back of the couch. “Here,” Regina said again more gently, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, careful not to touch her again.

But instead, Emma, now cocooned, leaned quickly over and put her cup down, then burrowed her side into Regina’s. 

Regina wrapped an arm around her. They didn’t speak, Emma’s eyes tracing the grate and chimney and Regina feeling the odd shiver take her friend every so often. 

Oh. Right, she thought. Regina lifted her fingers in a flourish, and the dead fireplace roared to life. 

Emma started, as if remembering something, and looked over. “Regina, are you okay?”

Regina felt a pang in her heart. Yes. No. Exhausted. Too much loss. But. She exhaled and felt her lips turn up. “Right now, yes, Emma. I’m okay. But it’s late. Will you stay here tonight? It’s late,” she glanced towards the clock, “and I don’t want—“ she stopped herself. Her hand absently gathered the blanket around Emma’s collar, then patted it down. “I want you to rest, Emma. You’re still terrible at that. The room is still made up for Zelena. She, ah, won’t be here tonight. You can be comfortable for a night.” 

Emma spoke again, ignoring the question for the time being. “I’m asking because Henry told me what he thinks about Robin. I think he could be right. Who the hell knows, Regina. We can find him. You followed me to hell. I’ll go wherever you need me to. And we’ll have your happy ending.”

Regina sighed. She smiled a little, just a touch, but it wasn’t happiness she felt, exactly. There was something clawing at her heart, a needling thing made of missing Robin and feeling Emma’s weight so securely against her own. It astonished her, this feeling. This wanting. How her hands now, of their own accord, lightly pulled Emma closer to her, settling her weight more securely against her side. “Shh. Everything is okay. Everything.”

Ensconced as she was, fire blazing, Emma still shivered, and Regina said, “What?”

“That weird forest girl with a vision showed me my own death. Something that looked like Death impaled me. With a sword. Or something.”

“Bullshit,” Regina said flatly. “Like Henry said. Consider the source.”

Emma stilled again beside her. “Well, it terrified me.”

“Maybe that was the point. Of course Hyde wants to terrify you. Nobody here is going to let anything like that happen to you.”

“Here?” Emma turned a little to cock an eyebrow at Regina. 

“Here in town. You know exactly what I mean. Don’t deflect.”

“He told me to follow a red bird. I did. Then the weird girl.”

“Emma, why the hell did you follow the bird?”

Emma didn’t answer, but she shrugged a little. Beneath the blanket under her arm, Regina felt her shoulders ease a bit—Emma certainly held all her worry there, and now it seeped out a little, softening her. The logic had landed. “I guess,” she replied. “I don’t know. It just felt like the right thing. I was curious. And Hook had left. Don’t get mad at him. He’s an idiot like me.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“Well, he left, and I wanted—I guess I thought I could take care of it on my own. Take it, whatever it was.”

Regina steadied her voice, carefully, before responding. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I know,” she responded quietly, hands tracing the fringe on the blanket. Then: “Where did you get this? It’s pretty.”

“Emma,” Regina said softly. 

Emma looked up for the first time, catching Regina’s warm dark eyes in the low light, the firelight, and the intimacy of Emma’s gaze, the wide-open softness there, the seeing, caught Regina’s breath in her throat. She stared back, allowing Emma’s gaze to hold her for a moment, objective, but no, a brewing. A love. A wild, open tenderness. 

They stared at each other for what felt like minutes, but were, in fact, just seconds, before Regina lifted her hand and brushed her thumb against Emma’s cheek. She dropped her hand quickly, remembering herself, and said, “Stay. I’ll get the bed ready.”

“I feel safe with you,” Emma said softly, not breaking their gaze. 

Regina stilled now, stunned and struck as an animal in lights. 

And Emma leaned the three maybe four inches between them to kiss Regina softly, and Regina held herself rigid and still, and Emma began to kiss her lightly, gently, breaking to breathe, to kiss Regina’s bottom lip and top lip and corners of her lip, and only then did Regina tangle her hands in Emma’s hair and draw her closer, kissing her back soundly, wordlessly, a soft hum or moan in her throat, indistinguishable from the sound Emma made as she was, again, gathered up. 

Emma dropped the blanket and shifted her body in order to slip her arms around Regina, who kissed her back fiercely.

They kissed for a long time--tasting, beginning to memorize, softening for one another, undoing and doing and undoing--until the fire died down, until they began to pull away from one another and couldn't quite look at each other. Regina let the fire go. She did not let Emma go. For whatever fear was building there, Emma did not let go of Regina either. They held onto one another until Emma began drifting into sleep, exhaustion finally taking hold. 

The insufferable pinging of their phones; who was looking for Emma? What crisis was coming--

Regina reached one arm to the coffee table and texted Snow, Snow who she trusted now, too. Emma's here and safe. Have Henry? And Snow messaged back: Yes. 

They did not make love that night. They gathered and they held. Emma, breathing softly, head buried in the crook of Regina's neck, holding onto Regina as if she was precious. Regina contemplated disentangling long enough to poof them onto the bed, but didn't, thinking to herself that perhaps the biggest gift was the slowness, the slight discomfort, the perfection of Emma so near, and thankfully, finally, Regina thought, resting. 

Regina realized too that not once had she been surprised by the vehemence of this feeling. Not once since Emma had turned her gaze brightly on Regina that evening and told her, not in so many words, that she loved her (what is safety but love? and Emma's voice, so low, so clear, piercing) had Regina missed Robin--not because that love hadn't been valid, but because Emma was somehow more, or simply, elemental to her, part of her own fabric or yearning or skin. And this. Felt right. Was home. They were different, sure, and her heart was still broken, but Emma--Emma, who had gathered Regina as she always did, gently, so gently Regina did not always notice that she was being gathered, and held onto--this, she, was a love worth saving. 

This was a love. Worth everything.

**Author's Note:**

> tenderness #goals


End file.
